Poll: Will you be having a traditional Christmas dinner?

You'll probably start with a little smoked salmon and when the main course arrives there'll also be sprouts, roast potatoes and something fizzy.

Afterwards, it'll be a rich, brandy- soaked pudding with lashings of custard. Or maybe you'll be pushing the boat out. Instead of the smoked salmon you'll be eating lobster. And you'll be replacing the turkey with something extravagant like a red-legged partridge.

Lobster and red-legged partridge are the sort of dishes you'd expect at absurdly expensive London restaurants – not humble West Midlands tables. Right?

Wrong. You can pick up a lobster and a red-legged partridge – or, for that matter, a turkey, duck or goose – at your local discount supermarket.

Lobsters are £6 a pop at Lidl.

At that money, I'll buy a load, stick them in the freezer and refuse to eat anything else until February.

Cut-price supermarkets offer the last word in festive bargains. Sure, they don't have Heston Blumenthal singing their praises.

But, to be honest, who'd want him? Heston's over-priced Waitrose offerings are as pretentious as an all-black painting on an all black canvas in an all-black frame.

Christmas is a time for snobbery and prejudice. It's the season of one-upmanship, of dangling more lights on your house than your neighbour or spending more on your sprouts.

It's a time for absurd prejudices, you know, of bumping into friends who take you aside, then shudder as they conspiratorially whisper: 'Oh no, I'd never shop at Aldi'.

You won't catch me out on the quality versus quantity argument, either. There's just as much junk on the shelves of Sainsburys as there is at Aldi.

And vice versa. In blind taste tests, the cut-price kings win just as often, if not more, than the expensive stores.

Not shopping at Aldi and Lidl is like not wearing a life jacket when the ship is going down because you don't like the colour.

It's obtuse, curmudgeonly and stubborn.

It's like sticking your hand in your pocket, taking out a roll of fivers, dousing them in lighter fuel and striking a match.

So you'll find me in their aisles this Christmas. There actually is a Santa and his name is Father Lidl.